


The Corruption of Morgiana

by A_Slaaneshi_Typist



Category: Bretonnian, Brettonian, Warhammer Fantasy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:42:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25368568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Slaaneshi_Typist/pseuds/A_Slaaneshi_Typist
Summary: The Fay Enchantress is taken captive by beastmen, but they have something in mind to do with her besides eating her...
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Corruption of Morgiana

The skies above the province of Carcassonne crackled with green lightening as the beastmen romped and roared in the broken ruins of the hamlets, celebrating victory under the sickly glow of Morrslieb, performing crude dances and rites around bonfires fed with bone and the beams and thatch of buildings. The knights had been forced to retreat back behind the safety of its walls as the men at arms were butchered and eaten, and the women and children of the surrounding villages subjected to unspeakable terrors.  
It had only been daybreak when the lord of castle had lead his household knights and sworn swords to defend his small-folk, with the holy blessing and presence of the divine Morgiana, of course. Now it was dusk, and the lord was dead, his host was scattered, and the survivors forced to cower behind the tall white walls of the fortress.  
The holy embodiment of the Lady’s Will however, had not been fortunate enough to escape back behind the walls of the settlement, and had instead been captured by the Gors as she tried to ride away. By the end of the battle the winds of magic had been utterly sapped, and she was helpless. They had dragged her back, bruised and bloodied, golden hair sticky with mud and blood, to the leader of their corrupted host, and her eyes widened upon the sight of him. The Dark Omen, Chaos given flight, The shadow of evil that rode upon the winds… Malagor.  
She gasped in pain as the massive, legendary Bray-Shaman tossed her down in front of their crudely erected totems to evil and impurity, and lashed her to the posts with rope that looked to be made with human hair. His breath stank of coppery fresh blood, and his hide seemed to smell worse than the lowest outhouses in all of cities of Bretonnia put together. It was a struggle for Morgiana to not gag at the odor, but she held back the urge. She wouldn’t show weakness to these vessels of corruption. Not with The Lady’s eyes upon her!  
Malagor’s deep dark voice garbled something she did not understand in the Dark tongue of the brayherds, hard coarse words as brutal and primitive as the beings who spoke them. But from the way the gors laughed and roared in approval, she assumed nothing he could be saying was good.  
When the beastman turned his attention back to her, he’d produced a wicked, jagged knife from somewhere in the folds of his disgusting robes, something sacrificial probably, still stained and rusted from the blood of thousands.  
This was it, she was sure. Her holy blood will be spilled upon the altars of Chaos as an offering to the despicable and evil gods the Cloven Ones were sworn to serve from their low and corrupted births.  
She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, preparing for the sensation of the cold steel burying itself deep into her breast and through her heart, or perhaps across her throat to spill her life’s blood more easily.  
But the dagger did not stab, nor cut. Instead it jutted under her white dress, and scraped shallow bloody cuts across her belly as it worked across the fabric, slicing it off her and leaving her breasts, belly, nethers, legs, and everything in between bared to every gor watching her by the flickering firelight, and the glow of the Chaos Moon.  
It was only then that she realized what the Dark Omen had planned for her, and the Fay Enchantress began to struggle anew, cursing them in the Bretonni tongue and trying to wriggle free of the bonds they had her in, but it was no use. The corrupting powers of Chaos that ran through the unholy effigies made her weak, and she was still so tired from the battle. She was utterly without hope of escape.  
Malagor spoke another phrase in a grunting couple words, before tossing off his robe and rubbing his stinking, massive manhood to a throbbing rigidity. The musky odor of it made her feel dizzy, and the size was even more concerning. At least one foot, and in the shape of a horse’s cock, or a cow’s. A flat flared head with many nubby protrusions going up and down the shaft, doubtless more mutations of Chaos, below the shaft, 2 balls the size of grapefruits swung, massive, their stench burning in her nostrils, being so close to her as they were.  
Despite herself The Enchantress could feel the animalistic terror grip deep in her heart as he got down on his knees in front of her and lifted her hips to meet his. He spat a wad of sticky beastman drool onto his cock and rubbed it up and down until the whole length was shining wet.  
She squirmed and groaned and grunted until she felt the tip touch her lower lips, and gave a gasping cry of pain as her virtue was taken from her to the entire warherd's delight, an their cheers drowned out her desperate prayers. She felt Malagor’s massive hands gripping her hips and his mouth coming down on her breasts to bite painfully at the nipples as he began to push into her. Once the massive head was in, the rest was a little easier, but it still hurt a lot… he was too big, much too big, and at this proximity his smell was unbearable. All she could do was cry out and groan as her legs kicked and her body squirmed, trying to force herself away, to no avail.  
He got about halfway into Morgiana before pulling out, a momentary relief was felt before again he thrust into her. This time it didn’t hurt quite as bad. Still some, granted, it definitely still hurt some, but maybe half as much as last time, and he got it a bit deeper. Sweat was clinging to her skin as her hair hung down in her eyes and the feelings she didn’t want rolled over her body. Then he did it again, and again, and by the fifth thrust, she heard herself moan breathily.  
That wasn’t the end of it though. The feeling of his thick, animal lips on her nipples, the times he bit hard enough to make her cry out, but never enough to rip them off, were making her heart race. The big, strong hands gripping her hips felt more welcome somehow…  
Self-disgust filled her. She couldn’t be enjoying this, no, certainly not. Not her, not the Fay Enchantress. She was sworn to defend against Chaos, to destroy the taint of-  
Her sermon to herself was cut short as another unwelcome wave of pleasure slammed her upside the head. That felt GOOD, very good. His flared head had rolled across something inside her in just the right way, and as Malagor felt her insides tighten around him at that intrusion, he made sure to hit it again, and again, harder each time. His massive testes slapped against her with wet noises each time he made a thrust. She was feeling this warm tightness build inside her. Just a little at first, just this tiny hint… but it was growing.  
She couldn’t keep her thoughts straight now, Morgiana was gasping and moaning helplessly in his mighty grip, biting her lip to try to keep the sounds from slipping. No, she had to keep her wits about her, she would not succumb to- another thrust, and her focus was damaged further. The dismay at this was rapidly dissipating. How could something that felt so good be so bad…?  
The black wings of the Dark Omen flapped and unfurled with pride as he growled, and the taint of Slaanesh was glowing pink on the effigies that bound her. The Warheard’s chanting and cheering in her ears made it even harder to focus, the dark words melding together into a feral, chanting tome, the accompanying orchestra to her corruption.  
Dimly, the Fae Enchantress knew she was forgetting something, something that she thought was important. Something about… another wave of pleasure hit her as the mighty bray-shaman slammed into that sweet, sweet special spot inside her. It… probably could wait… she didn’t have to think about it right now… that warm tightness deep in the pit of her belly was getting even tighter, even stronger.  
Malagor’s thrusting had become ragged and fast, his breath hard and heavy, the musk coming off of him, which once revolted her, now smelled more masculine and dominating and attractive, rather than disgusting. Gods, everything was so warm and tingly. The cool night air felt chilly, but Malagor was warm, and strong, and he had her in his grasp, so the cold couldn't touch her…  
He was sucking and biting each of her breasts quickly now, one then the other, his shaft slamming into her as fast as a horse’s hooves pummel dirt on the charge. The hands that gripped her hips were digging in, deliciously deep, she could feel blood run from the scratches they caused, but the pain was sweet, and it only made it better.  
The herd’s chanting was louder now, faster, building with her bliss, growing with her need for more of this foreign, lovely pleasure she had never known before this night.  
That tightness in her belly wasn’t just warm anymore, it was burning, aching, so wonderfully deep, so deliciously intense inside her. She heard herself begging for more, more, she needed more, just a little more, something was coming, and she wanted it, she wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything.  
The forgotten thought of hesitation, the voice of purity was now fully lost. All she cared about was this lovely, lovely feeling deep inside her. Her legs clenched Malagor’s waist as tightly as her bonds allowed, and she tried desperately to slam herself into each of his ministrations, even as he held her still.  
She felt The Dark Omen thrust into her harder, and harder, and harder, until he roared with a dominant cry to the Dark Gods, Slaanesh most of all, and climaxed as the gors around them chanted a crescendo of Chaos and roared their approval.  
Her back arched, her head fell back, and she screamed. The tightness released and clenched and released and clenched, wave after wave of unstoppable bliss and indescribable pleasure, her eyes rolled back in her head as she smiled and drooled mindlessly in a cloud of pure carnal delights. The heat of Malagor’s seed filling her was something beyond perfection, so incredibly blissful that she couldn’t imagine anything she had ever enjoyed more. The spasm running up and down her womanhood milked more of the thick, white, steaming substance out of the bray-shaman. He grunted his pleasure as he kept thrusting into her, slowly, riding out the pleasure of his orgasm.  
It was like her entire body was floating on a cloud of bliss, pleasure and delight running from her stretched, well fucked, leaking cunt, all across the rest of her body, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head.  
He grabbed her now sweat-soaked, dirty blonde locks and pulled her face to his, licking her cheek and growling something low in the dark speech of Chaos. In her corrupted state, she could make out, though she didn’t know how, the words he spoke.  
“You will not die. You will follow my host. The Bretonni will watch as their Enchantress marches with the Children of Chaos, your belly thick with my young, and your mind blank of all but pleasing me.”  
Before she passed from consciousness, Morgiana giggled happily, and thought that there was no words he could have said in that moment that would have made her feel more excited than those had. Purity was a lie... the pleasure of being mounted by her master was its own pure, simple bliss...  
With that final thought, her eyelids fluttered close, and she slept.


End file.
